


Don't Jump

by cookiemonstercor



Category: Pitch Perfect
Genre: Gen, Suicide, attempted suicide, trigger warning, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiemonstercor/pseuds/cookiemonstercor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She just wants this to be over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Jump

She is sitting on the roof of her five story LA apartment building, feet dangling over the ledge as she numbly observes the movement below. So many people on their way home from work, going out to dinner with family or friends, heading to some club or other; all of them completely oblivious to what she is about to do. She’s not quite ready to do it yet, though, so she sits and she watches and she thinks about why she’s here in the first place.

There was never a time in her life when she wasn’t miserable. And it wasn’t any particular event in her life that made her this way, it’s just the way she is. There are people in this world who live their entire lives without once feeling the crushing weight of depression on their chest, but she is not one of those people. She has struggled to make it through each and every day of her life and she finds that she simply can’t do it anymore. 

She has no one. And when she says that, she means it. Her parents divorced when she was five and she hasn’t seen or heard from her father since. Her mother became an alcoholic shortly after the divorce, and she was a mean drunk. She became accustomed to the abuse, both verbal and physical, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t cry herself to sleep most nights. It was abundantly clear that she was nothing more than an unwelcome guest in their tiny two bedroom apartment, and she hit the road at fifteen with nothing more than a few stolen dollars and the clothes on her back. She hasn’t seen her mother since the day she walked out and her mother probably hasn’t bothered to look for her in the five years she’s been gone, so she figures she was better off homeless anyway. She’d been labeled the school loner in kindergarten and the name had stuck all the way up until she dropped out when she left home. She’d never had friends, not that she ever really wanted any. Social interaction has always been difficult for her, seeing as she had trouble connecting with people, so she found it much easier to be alone.  
She has no one to live for, no one to miss her, no one who cares about her, she’s unhappy, and she hates herself, so why stick around?

She stands, balancing precariously on the ledge. She gazes blankly down at the busy streets below her with a serene smile on her face. She doesn’t see the people anymore. She only sees the way out. The way out that she’s been waiting so long to take. The finality of this moment is exhilarating and she almost wishes she could stay here in this moment forever. Almost.

A sound comes from somewhere behind her, but she pays it no mind. She lifts her left leg and stretches it out over open air, in no hurry to break the tranquility surrounding her. She thinks she hears a voice, but it’s so distant and muffled that she’s sure she imagined it. As she leans forward, ready to meet her end, something grasps her wrist and yanks her backwards. She collides with a soft body and the world around her comes rushing back. She screams in unrestrained pain and anger at the person whose arms are trapping her, begging them to let her go so she can die. The person, who, she decides, is most likely a woman given the breasts pushed into her face, refuses to release her. She fights and fights and fights for about twenty minutes until she finally gives up, allowing the woman to pull her closer as she dissolves into a sobbing wreck.

“Why couldn’t you let me go? I just want to die, why won’t you let me go?” she cries.

“There is no way in hell I’m just going to watch you commit suicide right in front of me,” the woman states firmly.

“Then let me go and leave!” she tries to reason.

The other woman scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Please. Please, I’m begging you. Just let me die. I have nothing and no one and I’m miserable, just let me die.”

“No,” the woman replies, voice wavering, “I will not let you die. You have me now, and I will not let you die.”

“You don’t even know me. Why do you care?”

“Because I’ve been here. A stranger stopped me too and now she’s my best friend. I think we could be friends, too, you know.” They make eye contact and she finally takes in all of the woman’s facial features; in the dim moonlight, she can just make out the girl’s light-colored eyes – blue or green, she guesses – and the gentle smile on her lips. This woman has red hair – red or brownish blonde, but she’s willing to bet on red – and the look of concern on her face seems genuine but out of place. The redhead opens her mouth to speak, and she attempts to quiet her thoughts in order to listen. “I care because no one should feel the need to commit suicide. No one. I know you feel like you don’t matter, like you have no one, but that’s not true. You’re important to me, you’d be important to all those people down there who would be forced to watch you die. And you may have had no one before, but you have me now, and I’m not letting you kill yourself. I want you around, even if no one else does. So please, please, just…Just come to my apartment for a while, yeah? And we can talk. About anything and everything. Or nothing at all. We can just watch a movie or something. But come hang out with me tonight, please, just so I know you’re safe,” she pleads.

She sighs heavily, her earlier emotional tirade leaving her exhausted. “Okay, fine,” she relents. “I’ll stay with you tonight. Just answer a question for me first?”  
The woman shrugs. “Sure.”

“What were you doing up here, anyway?”

“I-” she hesitates momentarily, then continues, “I was coming up to smoke.” She raises her eyebrow at the redhead and the woman sighs exasperatedly. “Look, my roommate doesn’t know I smoke because she hates smoking and I needed a cigarette so I came up here to light up.” 

She laughs, really laughs, for what is probably the first time in her life, and the redhead tries to scowl but soon bursts into a fit of giggles as well. After a few minutes, their laughter dies down and she realizes something important. “So, hey, I uh, never got your name.”

“Oh! Right! I’m Chloe. Apartment 5B.”

“Beca. 4D.”

“Nice to meet you, Beca. Now let’s go inside, I’m cold and Aubrey’s probably finished with dinner by now.”


End file.
